


razorblade

by DarlingHazel



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:21:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22586299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingHazel/pseuds/DarlingHazel
Summary: Billy thought it was over, he thought he could leave it all in the past and forget about anything he’s ever done to himself as a result of his father’s mistreatings.He doesn’t realize how wrong he is until he walks in on Steve shaving.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 1
Kudos: 91





	razorblade

When Billy lived with his dad, he wasn’t the most mentally okay. Or emotionally.

Of course, all in fair reason, but he  _ really _ fucked up.

His dad was abusive, that wasn’t new knowledge, but Billy would take after him unintentionally. He’d hurt others like his dad would, say things his dad did, and when Tommy H. pointed out how he sounded like his dad (Tommy knew nothing about the abuse, only some words), Billy felt his skin turn to ice and gut wrench in disgust and realization.

He hated it.

So, so much.

And then he indulged in a habit he never thought he would. Which he’s shameful of, even if only done so few times, he still sees the discoloration on his arms.

It was just… so much at the time.

He would get hurt, or yelled at, and he’d retreat to his room or the bathroom. He’d grab something, anything sharp, and he’d begin its descent. It was all he was in control of, it gave him an escape, it distracted him and it made him feel like he was punishing himself in a way for ever saying or doing anything similar to something his dad’s done.

The red.

The red speckles that ran down his wrist. At first, not much came out of it. But he learned after the second try that he had to wait after some cuts, because he didn’t have anything quite at his disposal yet that was sharp enough or deep enough. He knew that after waiting, he’d see red, and he’d feel the sting and the heat and it made him feel so… something.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was something that comforted him.

The warmth, like a heater just on his arm. Never quite spreaded throughout his body. He’d cover them with his sleeves, always made sure to bring a leather jacket for extra measure and for his usual bad boy get up. Became practically inseparable from that jacket afterwards. Sometimes the sting remained even during school.

The first time he did it, he felt shameful that he had. He felt almost weak and powerless and like he’d ruined himself even more and just overall corrupted and rotten.

But then his dad called him out on wearing an earring to school and called him a queer, and then while in his car he found a way to scratch at his arms enough to induce some form of heat before Max would come. His nails were sharp enough to dig into his skin just right. After that, he’d bring a razor with him to school just in case he wanted to have a little break in the bathrooms.

That’s how he learned of the waiting game; the second time.

He only ever did it because of his dad though, but one time, he saw Harrington on the verge of tears during practice and that sight alone sent him into a spiral at home. He felt like he was to blame, like he was stupid for not reaching out, and like Harrington will never like him for the things he’s done. Ever.

But now, he’s different.

Billy is so much different.

He’s distanced himself from razors, sharp things, never gets them close to his arms or wrists and never thinks about them. He’s moved in with Steve because Steve’s always alone and Steve knows about his dad now. They have bedrooms right next to each other just in case Steve’s feeling paranoid or alone or Billy’s scared of his dad or thinking of his mom.

It’s nicer, to live with Steve. Because Steve understands him.

The blank paper at his desk mocks him though, because Steve’s done so much for him, called him strong countless times and told him he could do it, but he’s still not able to write the first fucking words.

Writing a letter to his mom just… made no sense.

He couldn’t even find her.

They’ve been on the search for two weeks now, since Billy’s moved in, but no progress was made. Still, Steve asks him all the time to write a message to her. Billy just doesn’t know what he should say.

Maybe it’s better he doesn’t.

He feels so much more content just waking up to Steve’s voice every day anyways. He’s so much happier now that he has the freedom to wake up anytime and do whatever he wants. He’s happier with Steve, he doesn’t really need to know if his mom’s still out there, because she left him. Steve should be his priority, and he is.

A small crush, an unimportant one. Billy doesn’t wanna ruin their friendship.

He slaps the desk tiredly and gets up, willing his eyes open with as much energy as he can muster in the early morning. He usually is more of a morning person than Steve, but that’s within reason for the two.

Steve likes nighttime because he can pretend his family’s still there and asleep. Billy likes mornings because he’s just used to waking up really early to get things done and over with before his dad tells him to drop Max off. He’s just used to it, finds the sunlight calming as well.

Max actually visits every weekend, Billy’s been trying his best to be a better brother and it seems it’s working.

Or she just likes Steve, like the other kids.

Billy stretches and rubs his heavy eyes, opening the door into the hallway with his free hand. He wants to call out for Steve, but he knows Steve’s probably asleep anyways. Might as well check in.

He ducks his head under the lights hanging from his door frame that Steve used as decoration for his room. Billy thinks it’s unnecessary, but he likes knowing Steve put all that up just for him to feel at home. It’s cute.

Opening the door to Steve’s room as quietly as possible, Billy peers in to find the bed empty. He does, however, hear a faint buzz coming from the bathroom. His heart stops momentarily.

Without thinking, he leaves Steve’s door open to run in and throw open his bathroom door. His heart’s racing, all the energy he’d lost before returning. He fears what he’ll see but finds himself able to breathe again just a little when his eyes land on a surprised and sluggish looking brunette with shaving cream slapped onto his face.

“Billy?” Steve questions, voice raspy.

“Holy shit,” Billy breathes. His heart’s coming to again, but it’s hard when he sees that razor in Steve’s hand. “Put that-- can you- can you put that down? Please?”

He doesn’t usually ask for things like that with Steve unless he’s being paranoid of his dad.

“Yeah- sure, of course!” Steve quickly turns off his electric razor and places it next to the sink, turning the water on to quickly wash off his cream.

It’s sloppy and completely half-assed, but the moment he’s done dabbing off the excess with a towel with Billy just looking at the razor like it killed somebody, he’s quickly pushing Billy out the bathroom and closing the door behind himself.

“What happened?” Steve asks, dusting Billy’s shoulders as gently and caringly as possible.

It brings Billy some comfort, it makes him feel a little fluttery inside, but he’s still distraught with panic. His eyes don’t feel like they’re in the right place.

“Are you-- uh. Are you okay?” Billy stupidly asks, completely ignoring Steve’s initial question with how hard his heart is still beating in his ears. It’s distracting, the fear’s slowly bringing him back to when he had a razor in his own hands. It makes his stomach twist in all the wrong ways.

Steve’s mouth opens momentarily and then he gently pushes Billy onto the bed, kneeling on the ground right in front of him and looking up at him the way Billy does sometimes when Steve has nightmares. “Billy,” he says, hands on Billy’s knees and brows woven together in concern, “What’s wrong?”

Billy doesn’t know how to respond, he’s frozen in place and the warmth on his knees bring back so many memories he wants to hide. So many memories suffocating him.

It’s not long before he finds his cheeks wet, and Steve immediately jumps up a little to brush Billy’s curls out of his face as carefully as possible. “You’re crying,” he says disbelievingly.

Billy’s not much of a crier. He gets more angry or unresponsive, tears aren’t his thing. Steve’s more used to yelling back or holding him until he’s back in reality again.

He always tries to avoid thinking about how nice it feels to be held by Steve.

He really wants to not be held right now, because he’s afraid of being warm. He wants to be cold.

His throat closes and he stutters a choke, covering his face with his hands. His shoulders shake with his sob, and he feels Steve staring at him.

He feels shameful, disgusting, he hates that he ever hurt himself. Steve’s gonna hate him, leave him, kick him out, think he’s fucked up or  _ something-- _

“Billy,  _ please  _ talk to me. Did I do something?” Steve’s words come out rushed, but he’s still there, right by Billy, not yet leaving which means so much, “I want to know, please, tell me. I want to help you.”

Billy’s so scared, so disgusted and relieved but Steve’s scared too. Steve has helped him so much, maybe... 

Maybe Steve can just.

Help him.

But that feels like a stupid thought, because he’s already done it and Steve can’t turn back time.

“I’m fucked up, Steve,” Billy rasps, muffled by his hands. He can feel how wet his face is and is so relieved by the coldness of his tears. It keeps him grounded.

“Why?”

“‘cause I… fuckin’...” no matter how much he wants to trust Steve, he just can’t say it. He feels like somebody’s holding him by the tongue, it just won’t come out even if he wants it to and he can’t even  _ imply  _ it.  _ Steve’s gonna leave me, _ he thinks.  _ Steve’s gonna go. _

Steve gently wraps his slender fingers around Billy’s wrists and tugs a little. It’s not so much a request to show himself as much as it is an  _ invitation _ to open up.

It’s Steve saying that Billy can deal with it himself, or Steve can deal with it with him. It’s Billy, or trust.

He really trusts Steve.

So he lets Steve’s wrists act as the weights to his hands and drops them a little insecurely. He avoids looking at Steve, knowing his face is a mess but unable to hold in the sobs and tears.

His eyes keep shut, unable to look anywhere. He doesn’t want to see anything with an edge, anything to remind him he’s alive. He just feels so shameful and broken and wrong.

“Billy…”

Steve’s hand comes up to Billy’s face and wipes a tear, “Look at me, please.”

He opens his eyes and stifles a croak of ‘I’m sorry’. Bites his tongue, not willing to dig the hole even deeper.

Steve’s looking at him with furrowed brows and serious eyes. They’re glossed over, his cheeks and nose are red and Billy realizes he’s trying not to cry too.

He wonders how many times Steve’s had to hold back from crying anytime Billy screamed at him.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Steve asks, shaken. He keeps his thumb rubbing Billy’s cheek. Even though his palm is so warm, Billy feels like his hand keeps him up. A different kind of warmth that keeps him grounded in a new way. A way that makes him feel okay. In a healthy way.

He takes a deep breath, shuts his eyes for a moment and looks Steve dead in the eye. He knows his lips are quivering, he knows he looks a fucking wreck, but he owes Steve this much.

“I did it.”

That’s all he can say.

And then the wetness leaves Steve’s eyes in the form of tears, and Steve breathes and places both his hands on Billy’s face and leans in to press their foreheads together for a moment. And then Steve runs his fingers along Billy’s jawline then wraps his arms quickly around Billy and brings him in for a hug.

But it’s not a hug. He’s holding Billy, and he’s not letting go.

He’s keeping Billy safe.

Billy cries harder, burying his face in Steve’s neck and letting himself be held. He keeps his arms dropped, knows he doesn’t need to reciprocate for Steve to know.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers. His voice is delicate and shaking, but so full of emotions. He holds Billy tighter to him and tangles his hands in his hair, “It’s okay,” he repeats.

It’s not an  _ it’ll be okay. _ It’s an  _ it’s okay. _

And Billy forgets his arms, and he feels like maybe it can be. Maybe, it really is.

Maybe nothing about him has changed, at all. Maybe he’s still okay. He stopped for a reason.

Steve keeps whispering that it’s okay into Billy’s ears, getting weaker every time with his own tears. Their tears almost mix together on Steve’s neck.

They sit there for a moment, close to each other, crying, and Billy feels himself taken more and more by Steve’s warmth. Not the razor, never the razor. Just Steve.

He feels so much safer.  _ This _ is his reality now. He doesn’t ever want to escape it, and he thinks that maybe he does have more control than he thinks he does.

So he brings his arms around Steve as well and pulls them closer together, closes his eyes in his neck and lets himself breathe.

He’s alive.

The air is fresh, entering his lungs.

He’s not abnormal.

He’s not wrong, rotten, or different because of this.

He changes because he wants to.

He changes when he wants to.

And he’s changing by being nicer, by being a better person, by being the him that his father never wanted him to be. He’s changing by being  _ Billy. _

Finally, it’s silent save for their breathing and silent sniffles. The sobbing’s dulled with every second, until they’re just holding each other like they’re all they have.

In a way, they are.

Steve shifts and quickly pulls back. Billy doesn’t get a good look at his face but catches a glimpse of sheen on his cheeks, it makes his chest tighten. Steve sits up on the bed next to Billy and then pulls him in again.

This time, Billy’s head is on his chest, almost like he’s on his lap, and he’s just being cradled.

Steve seems to take a breath and hesitate, unsure if he should say something. He finally, nervously, clears his throat. “Do you want me to throw it away?” he asks.

Billy shakes his head.

“I can grow a beard, you know. Most I get is a stubble anyways.”

Billy chuckles weakly but keeps his head on Steve’s chest. He feels so safe and warm and okay.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says.

Steve rubs his thumb on Billy’s shoulder, letting his chin rest on his head and closing his eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I--” “-- You’re here now. That’s what matters to me. That’s what should matter to you, that you lived. And you’re okay.”

Billy keeps his mouth shut and feels his cheeks redden. A good kind of red, not a blood kind of red. A red that’s nice, a rose red. Nothing close to a stinging red. A comforting red.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

They stay there for most of the morning, with Billy lying on the bed and Steve sitting cross legged with both arms holding Billy to him as sweetly as possible. Billy falls asleep eventually, and Steve almost considers leaving him alone but then throws the blanket over the both of them and finds sleep tugging at his lids as well anyways.

So maybe they do cling to each other for the rest of the afternoon.

But one thing’s made clear to the both-- no matter what, no matter why, no matter how, they’ll always stay true to their word and care for the other. Steve will  _ never _ kick Billy out, and Billy makes a solemn vow to himself to never yell at him again.

One can imagine the surprise Steve gets when he wakes up to Billy waving a letter in front of his face grinning.

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't my best product, i will admit, i had to rush through it because i have to do other things as well so the ending wasn't the bEst and i wish i did better D: but i had an idea and i wanted to work with it to the best of my current limited abilities!! i may or may not delete this later, i'm not quite sure, it's not very fitting in the rest of my fics bUt it is on my tumblr as one of my first posts :00!!
> 
> my tumblr will mostly be for side-fics or prompts, or interactions with others :D!! feel free to drop by and help me get started on existing, hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!!!


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